Silence pulled taut over the inferno
by reignofblood
Summary: The interrogation scene between Mai and Zuko from The Boiling Rock Part 2. Shameless smut. Not even sorry.


Summary: The interrogation scene from "The Boiling Rock Part 2" revisited. Because as an adult revisiting a kid's show, you can't help but see all the moments the characters could have done it but didn't.

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"How did you know I was here?"

"Because I know you so well."

He glanced up at her. "But, how-"

"The warden's my uncle you idiot," she snapped.

He groaned and covered his face with one hand. _I forgot…the warden…_

"The truth is, I guess I don't know you..." Her voice was quiet. Raw. Incriminating. "…all I get is a letter?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to?" Anger. Biting. Entirely justified.

"'Dear Mai, I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, but I'm leaving.'"

Out loud, the words only seemed more dismissive and crass.

"Stop! This isn't about you. This is about the Fire Nation!"

Then again, the words coming out of his mouth now were no improvement.

"Thanks Zuko, that makes me feel all better."

The sarcasm was diminished by the distress blazing in her eyes.

His insides twisted painfully.

He rose to his feet.

"Mai," he began, voice low, eyes pinning her in place, pining for forbearance. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I have to do this to save my country."

"Save it? You're betraying your country!"

"That's not how I see it," he said.

_That's not how it _is_._ They both heard.

She was completely still. Lips pressed tightly together. Jaw set. Face drained in ire, livid. Limbs locked. Fists clenched. Nails digging into skin. Eyes excavating his soul.

Black on gold.

Silence pulled taut over the inferno.

"Shut the door."

"But, ma'am-"

"_Shut the door._"

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

The sound of iron creaking, groaning, thudding shut.

An exhale.

A slap across his face.

A hollow gasp somewhat in pain but mostly in shock.

A moan at the lips that so quickly replaced the hand.

The click of teeth in over-eager mouths.

She shoved him back roughly into the chair, and pushed her body into, over, on top of his.

"I - hate - you," she said between open-mouthed kisses to his jaw.

"I'm sorry," he said with difficulty. Not because of the apology and admission, but because her tongue was taking up almost the whole his attention span.

The remainder of his brain capacity was occupied by the sensation of her body now wedged between his legs and her hands grasping feverishly at his neck and tugging at his hair.

"No, you're not," she gasped into his mouth as she brought her lips back up to his.

He needed to retaliate but the words were no longer in his head. So he placed his hands against her waist and slid them up. Over her rib cage. Across her shoulder blades. Into her hair. And _pulled_, tearing her mouth away, tipping her head back, revealing an expanse of skin so pale it was almost translucent. He bit, sucked, licked, until her neck was marked red, her face was flushed pink, and her eyes were glazed over.

"I'm not sorry about this either," he murmured, breathing heavily into her throat.

He felt her growl. And then her hands were tearing off his shirt and she was pressing her soft, supple body against his bare chest and raking her nails down his back.

He hissed into her hair and retaliated by pushing her back and ripping open her robes. She shrugged out of the top half of her dress easily, exposing her collarbone and shoulders. He latched his mouth back onto hers and kissed her ferociously as he made quick work of the band of fabric binding her chest.

She made a high-pitched noise that was the perfect median between a yelp and a moan as his hands found her breasts. He continued to ravish her mouth while he teased her nipples into rigid peaks. She whimpered reflexively against his lips. Her fingers had danced from his back to his chest and shoulders. Her nails found purchase in his shoulders as he lowered his head to her chest and took her teat into his mouth.

He flicked his eyes up. She had her head back. Hair undone. Mouth open. Crying out soundlessly in pleasure. He smiled into her chest as he moved to the other breast.

Before he could, she grabbed his face in both hands and slammed her mouth back onto his. She ran her fingers into his hair and tugged desperately as he melted against her mouth with scorching kisses. His hands were now suspended limply at her stomach and waist, but hers slid from his head, to his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach. She pressed her nimble fingers against his lower stomach and toyed with his waistband before dipping a hand to grasp his erection.

His breath caught in his throat and he pulled back slightly in surprise. She smirked. He was at her mercy. She would make him pay.

She gripped him firmly, and, agonizingly slow, she slid her grip from the base to the tip and back. She tilted her head coyly to one side and ghosted her parted lips over his, but not allowing him to kiss her. She watched as the man beneath her shuddered, strained, struggled to taste her lips. As she continued her torturous ministrations on his lower half, she just barely grazed his mouth with her bottom lip. She pulled back as he leaned in, but then moved back again to give him a quick tantalizing lick.

She could tell he was getting angry from the way he gripped her waist a bit too hard and how his hands were becoming so hot they almost burned. But she didn't give in. She only slowed down and tightened her grip even more. He was practically quaking beneath her. How very, deliciously satisfying payback was.

She gently caught his bottom lip between her teeth and ran her tongue across it.

He growled and suddenly grabbed her wrist and pushed her up by the waist and shoved her back with his mouth. Her surprise was muffled by his ferocious kiss and the sound of her back hitting the cold cement wall. He trapped her body with his and grabbed the other wrist to bring them both up over her head.

It was his turn now.

Using one hand to pin both of hers to the wall, he trailed the back of his fingers leisurely up and down the side of her naked torso. His eyes never left hers. She shivered underneath his touch but glared resolutely back. Each time his hand reached her hip, it would push her dress down a fraction of an inch. And every time his fingers grazed over her hipbones she would push her pelvis forward. And he would move himself back out of reach.

Soon she was biting her lip to keep from whimpering and he was panting from the effort it took not to touch more of her.

But still they both refused to give in.

He snarled. She smirked.

"What's the matter, Zuko?"

Her dress fell to the floor.

She tilted her head back.

He moved in.

Their bodies collided.

At some point he let go of her hands so that he could hold her face to his.

At some point his pants joined her dress on the floor.

At some point she forgot where they were and gave up trying to stay quiet.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and he pushed her up against the wall with his body and his hands burning against her core.

She clung to his shoulders and tugged at his hair.

She wanted to hold him, wanted to hurt him.

He moaned against her skin and ground into her hips.

He wanted her to understand. He wanted to say goodbye.

Together they fucked it all away.

She came hard, with the cool cement wall at her back and his searing hot body pressed to her chest. She muffled her cry in his throat and scraped her nails across his back hard enough to draw blood.

He followed suit, pounding himself into her hips rapidly, forcefully, artlessly. He groaned against her shoulder as he felt her still tightening around him.

Then they were still, both panting quietly against the other's sweaty skin, clutching desperately to the remainder of their bliss. He held them both in place with his length still inside of her while she latched on with her legs around his hips.

Slowly she slid herself out and back down. She slipped her arms off from around his neck. He let go of his grip on her thighs and watched her lean back against the wall.

Her hair had come undone and was billowing in messy raven knots across her shoulders. Her lips were red and raw. She glared at him expectantly.

He sighed and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"When this is over…"

"It may never end."

"Here's to hoping, then."

She laughed.

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A/N: I don't even.

I should be writing my Zutara fanfic. God, Mai, wherever the hell did you come from.


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